


i know you’re somewhere out there, somewhere far away (i want you back, i want you back)

by tocryforme



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Clay | Dream Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Sad, no beta we die like tommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 17:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30076002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tocryforme/pseuds/tocryforme
Summary: dream just wants him back.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	i know you’re somewhere out there, somewhere far away (i want you back, i want you back)

**Author's Note:**

> only ran this through spellcheck on google docs so if theres anything wrong then whoops enjoy besties tell me what u liked lol

Clay was crazy.

Well, that’s what all his neighbors would say. 

“Don’t talk to the boy from apartment C27. He’s gone mad.” 

“He talks to the moon at night. I can hear him from my apartment.”

“He thinks it’ll talk back to him.”

They say. 

They just don’t understand. 

Clay sighed, getting up from his couch, Patches following his footsteps to his kitchen. The fridge door opened with a small pop.

The fridge was bare and empty, spare for a few Red Bull cans and old Chinese food. It just reminded him that he hadn’t eaten real food or drank water in the past few days. Maybe a week and a half at this point. 

The door closed with a small bang and the green-eyed man slowly dragged his feet towards his bathroom. 

He couldn’t recognize the man in the mirror staring back at him. 

The man he sees has bags upon bags under his eyes and those eyes are bright red and puffy. His skin was pale and his hair messy and unkempt, nearly matting due to the lack of grooming. His once bright green eyes seemed nearly dead in comparison to what they once were. 

The man in the mirror perfectly reflected how Clay felt inside and still, he didn’t like what he was seeing. 

He felt incomplete. 

Who the hell was this guy anyway? 

He looked dead. 

He looked like in the next minutes he would start rotting and go six feet deep. Back to where he belongs.

But that’s how Clay felt. 

The more he looked into his eyes, the less he recognized himself. The more the man in the mirror seemed less and less like Clay. 

He didn’t like this man. 

He didn’t like this man.

He didn’t like this man.

But he was this man.

His brain was getting dizzy from all the thoughts spiraling inside and he wasn’t sure he was breathing anymore. He couldn’t feel himself breathing but he liked to think he was. 

Was he?

He snapped out of his trance when something fuzzy rubbed against his legs, running through them and circling around one of his ankles before snaking its way in between again. 

“Hey, girl…” Clay mumbled, kneeling down to meet Patches who purred in response. 

Patches. 

He smiled at her and brushed his fingers across her small head. It was like she knew he was spiraling and came to help her. 

It was like she knew how lonely the man has been feeling for the past week or so. His heart, as well as his apartment, had been feeling lonely ever since George had passed. 

There were a bunch of “I’m sorry for your loss” and “I’ll miss gogy” and shit like that from fans and whatnot and although the tweets and the text messages from his friends were nice, nothing could fill the void in his heart like George did. 

Just the thought of George made his eyes tear up and his heart ache with longing for something Clay knew he couldn’t get back.

Nothing could bring back George.

Nothing could bring back the smile on his face that would always appear when George would get flustered. 

Nothing could bring back the butterflies he would feel flying in his stomach whenever George would have to stand on his toes to even land a kiss on Clay’s lips properly without having the taller bend down. 

Nothing could bring back those late nights, under the covers, in the dark with large hands around small wrists and skin on skin. 

Nothing could bring back those early mornings, watching the sunrise with a mixture of burnt and undercooked pancakes doused in syrup that Clay would eat just because George made them. 

Nothing could bring back George’s morning hair (which Clay would call his ‘after-sex hair’ and would immediately earn a smack on the arm from George and a kiss would immediately follow.)

The way Clay’s name just fell out of George’s mouth like it belonged there, swirling around on his tongue and engraved on his lips.

The way his eyes would shimmer each time an ‘I love you’ left either his or Clay’s lips.

The way his hands would go through Clay’s hair so smoothly like there were no tangles even though there were many.

His brown eyes. 

His soft skin.

His rosy cheeks. 

George.

Nothing could bring back George.

Clay didn’t realize it but hot tears were streaming down his face as thoughts of the British boy were spinning in his head like the only thing he could think about was George.

Well, those were the only thoughts he had these days anyways. 

He wiped his tears with his hand and sniffled. His breath was becoming uneven and he was tired. 

“Thank you, Patches…” He whispered, placing a small kiss on her tiny head. He stood up and steadied himself against the counter, not even sparing a glance at the mirror for his own sake. 

His eyes did pass over the shower curtain but in the end, he walked out of the bathroom and slowly walked into his room. It was dark and cold but the sheets were warm and smelled like George. 

The pillows and the blankets too. 

It was like he was still there. 

Clay’s eyes were growing tired and his body weak as he persevered on the path to his bed, immediately dropping his body onto it when he was close enough. The noise made on impact scared Patches but she didn’t stray far, remaining close to Clay and even hopping onto the bed when he settled in. 

His body had curled in on itself, holding George’s pillow close. Although the blankets were warm, he felt cold. 

So cold. 

He didn’t know if it was the sleep pulling him in but his eyelids felt so heavy and his breathing was slow, almost like it wasn’t sleep pulling him away but something else, something much bigger than sleep. 

Patches settled herself next to Clay, warming him up the best she could given the circumstance. 

“I love you…” Clay muttered in his dream-like state. 

He was drifting in and out of consciousness, his head spinning although he didn’t feel dizzy. He was feeling more warm than cold now, the tiredness (or whatever it was) pulling on him with all its might. 

And somewhere, somehow, he thought he heard something. 

Something in the distance, right before everything turned to black.

A voice calling out to him, sweet and soothing and familiar. 

“I love you, too.”


End file.
